a  Wall 


] 


^ 


L_: 


Q 


1 
I 


"They  balanced  in  the  center 
And  with  exquisite  grace, 
Would  lightly  ^vhirl  each  partner 
In  the  fondest  of  embrace." 


^S(S 


I 


i     Behind  the    i 
Garden  Wall 


By  Robert  Wallace 

Illustrated  by 
Elsinore  Robinson  Crowell 


. .   '   '  ' 


0  5 

0 


Paul  Elder  and  Company 
5  Publishers  •  San  Francisco 

i ^ 


I 


Copyrieht  1913 

By  Paul  Elder  and  Company 

San  Francisco 


r.>l)^ 


o 


TO  JANET,  DUDLEY  AND  DORCAS 


C?>/"ki~n»'^  41  iC^ 


I 


Contents 


The  Reason  Why 1 

Mosquito  Ball 5 

Our  Hero 7 

The  Croak  of  the  Crocus 9 

Coals  of  Fire 13 

Grandma  Frog 15 

A  Tailless  Tale 17 

Spring-time  Spats 21 

The  Squash  Bug's  Lament 23 

It  Can't  Be  True 25 

Ben  Beetle 29 

The  Picnic 31 

Stop,  Thief! 33 

The  Man  With  the  Hoe 37 

Help!  Help! 39 

A  Vulgar  Fellow 41 

Hot  Times 45 

A  Busy  Buzzy  Battle 47 

If  Wishes  Were  Horses 49 

An  Animated  Pincushion 53 

Sharps  and  Flats 55 

Checkerberry  Chick 57 

Bill  Bull  Frog's  Boom 61 

A  Desperate  Case 63 

To  You  (Conclusion) 65 


\ 


ii 


i 


The  Reason  Why 


ii    I    11  ■'      11-11  jwi  iii^]'-'    ii       sy^M 


The  moon  hung  like  an  orange  round, 

And  shed  her  mellow  light 

Down  on  the  Garden  bathed  in  dew, 

And  on  the  pebbles  white; 

The  music  of  the  Katy-dids 

Was  really  quite  sublime, 

They  played  so  softly  several  airs, 

And  kept  such  perfect  time. 

Most  half  asleep,  I  heaved  a  sigh 

To  think  how  very  few 

Unusual  happenings  occur. 

Considered  strange  or  new; 

The  scenery  is  always  full 

Of  grass  and  trees,  or  corn; 

The  night  steals  on  us  still  and  dark, 

Then  comes  the  same  old  morn. 


S#^ 


[1] 


^ 


n 


What  makes  the  busy  little  brook 

Forever  leap  the  hill? 

Why  can't  it  back  up  skittishly, 

Or  lie  down  and  keep  still? 

Why  do  great  mountains  rear  up  high, 

And  valleys  peaceful  sleep? 

When  one  talks  to  a  new-hatched  chick, 

Why  will  she  only  peep? 

So  musing  on  the  ways  of  life 
I  thought  how  quite  superb 
'Twould  be  to  know  the  babblings 
Of  each  Blossom,  Bug  and  Bird; 
And  what  a  treat  to  listen  sharp 
To  all  the  creatures  small 
Who  have  such  gay  and  frisky  times 
Behind  our  old  gray  wall. 

When  lo!  a  funny  little  man 
Sprang  upward  thro'  the  grass, 
And  with  him,  carried  by  wee  elves, 
A  key  as  clear  as  glass — 
Take  this,"  they  chanted,  all  at  once, 

Your  wishes  have  come  true, 
Forevermore  all  garden  lore 
Will  open  wide  to  you." 

[2] 


"*«?■ 


•mmm 


loqi 


giS 


Behind  the  Garden  Wall 


The  Mosquito  Ball 

You  should  have  been  with  me  and  seen 

The  swell  Mosquito  ball, 

The  most  exclusive  set  were  there, 

And,  with  becoming  drawl, 

They  lisped  sweet  nothings  in  my  ear, 

And  tickled  just  like  fuzz; 

It  made  me  laugh  most  fit  to  kill 

To  hear  the  June  bugs  buzz. 

Old  Daddy  Longs  Legs  donned  blue  specs. 

His  beauty  to  enhance. 

And  whirled  around  on  both  hind  legs 

In  nearly  every  dance. 

Miss  Angelina  Katydid 

Looked  ravishing  in  red, 

While  little  Phoebe  Rose  Bug 

Wore  an  aigrette  on  her  head. 

[5] 


u 


I 


i^s^ 


But,  quite  the  grandest  sight  that  night, 

Was  a  dowager  in  blue, 

V/ith  frosty  glance  through  her  lorgnette 

She  would  each  one  subdue. 

And  sat  in  state,  puffed  up  with  pride- 

I  thought  she  would  explode; 

It  surely  must  be  something  grand 

To  be  a  rich  Tree  Toad. 

A  lot  of  bugs  were  twittering  round 

Gay  Reginald  Horse  Fly; 

I  didn't  like  his  looks  real  well, 

He  seemed  so  smooth  and  sly; 

But  Pete  Potato  Bug  was  fine 

With  yellow  suit  striped  black; 

His  wind  gave  out  when  half  way  through, 

So  he  left  in  a  hack. 

I'm  glad  I  did  not  miss  the  treat 

To  hear  the  music  shrill. 

And  watch  those  large  Mosquitoes  gay 

Frisk  around  in  their  quadrille; 

They  balanced  in  the  center, 

And,  with  exquisite  grace. 

Would  lightly  whirl  each  partner 

In  the  fondest  of  embrace. 

[6] 


I 


^§gi 


I 


A  brutal  Tiger  Lily 

Had  a  tooth-ache  and  a  scowl, 

And  jumbled  all  his  temper  up 

With  savage  shriek  and  howl. 

He  started  yowling  to  himself 

Before  the  break  of  day, 

And  nothing  seemed  to  cheer  him  up. 

Or  drive  the  pain  away. 

They  called  old  Doctor  Long  Legs 
On  the  cob- web  telephone; 
But,  having  heard  the  yells,  he  said, 
'Just  leave  that  brute  alone!" 
What  could  be  done  to  stop  the  noise 
And  help  the  creature's  plight? 
Ben  Beetle  called  for  volunteers 
To  ease  the  ladies'  fright. 

[7] 


^131® 


STIE^ 


I 


Who  will  go  up,  without  constraint, 

And  stop  that  doleful  rant?" 

I  will,"  piped  up  the  tiny  voice 

Of  young  Alonzo  Ant, 

And,  straightway  skinning  off  his  coat. 

And  wasting  no  more  talk, 

He  tightened  fast  his  leather  belt. 

And  shinned  right  up  that  stalk. 

Wild  fears  clutched  at  his  little  heart, 

And  he  was  feeling  chilly, 

But,  with  a  bold  and  solemn  face. 

He  thus  addressed  the  lily- 

'The  racket  you  see  fit  to  make, 

IVe  come  here  to  discuss. 

We've  stood  this  nonsense  far  too  long. 

Keep  still  and  hush  your  fuss!" 

At  this,  the  mad  and  roaring  flower. 
Like  almost  every  bully. 
Abruptly  ceased  his  dismal  yells, 
No  longer  wild  and  woolly; 
And  thus  the  savage  plant  was  tamed, 
Who  made  such  noise  and  clatter. 
And  once  again  exemplified 
The  power  of  mind  o'er  matter. 

[8] 


^ 


=eBm@> 


^^ 


The  Croak  of  the  Crocus 

The  drizzling  rain  is  falling  fast 

And  melting  all  the  snow. 

Our  garden  looks  like  some  small  lake 

Filled  from  the  overflow — 

The  silence  of  a  new-born  Spring 

Is  broken  by  a  wheeze, 

As,  turning  quickly  in  the  path, 

I  hear  a  Crocus  sneeze! 

*Kerchew!  Kerchew— ! !  What  shaU  I  do? 

It  makes  my  petals  blush 

To  stand  all  bare,  in  this  cold  air, 

Most  ankle  deep  in  slush; 

As  pioneer  of  all  the  flowers. 

While  snug  the  others  sleep, 

I  stand  here  snuffling  with  a  cold. 

And  hoarsely  croak  and  weep. 

[9] 


I 


^ 


0 


"When  Gardner  Brown  tucked  me  in  bed, 
Real  early  in  the  Fall, 
I  snuggled  down  so  warm  and  nice, 
Beside  the  old  gray  wall; 
But  now,  with  goose  flesh  on  my  legs, 
Quite  shattered  is  my  dream, 
I  wish  he'd  shuffle  round  this  way, 
And  turn  on  lots  of  steam. 

"It's  all  the  blundering  error 
Of  my  foolish  little  clock. 
Who  promised  to  come  round  in  time 
And  on  my  bulb  to  knock; 
All  Winter  long  he's  run  in  turn. 
First  slow,  then  fast,  by  streaks; 
That's  why  I'm  shivering  in  the  mud. 
Ahead  of  time  two  weeks. 

"Before  my  head  is  sneezed  quite  off, 
Or,  we  bid  fond  adieux. 
Pray  hie  at  once  to  yonder  house 
For  cap  and  overshoes, 
Also  a  cup  of  ginger  tea; 
For  I  have  oft  been  told. 
When  one  is  troubled  with  the  creeps, 
It's  splendid  for  a  cold." 


mm^ 


[10] 


^^ 


Coals  of  Fire 

"At  that,  Ben  Beetle  and  the  boys 
Let  go  a  rousing  cheer, 
And  swarmed  around  that  wrecked  abode 
^Vith  all  their  working  gear." 


! 


(( 


it 


Coals  of  Fire 

The  sportive  wind,  with  fitful  g^ust, 

Had  romped  around  and  blown 

Cordelia  Spider's  cobweb  house, 

And  left  it  overthrown: 

What  shall  I  do?"  the  spinster  cried, 

And  wildly  tore  her  hair, 

I'll  catch  my  death  of  dampness,  sure, 

Exposed  to  this  raw  air." 

'Twas  then  old  Daddy  Long  Legs 
Observed  the  maiden's  plight, 
And  swiftly  ran  with  all  his  feet 
His  speed  to  expedite; 
And,  calling  loudly  to  the  boys 
Who  in  the  garden  dwell, 
Began,  in  sad  and  quavering  voice, 
The  baleful  news  to  telL 

[13] 


1^ 


I 


I 


i 


The  virtues  of  this  lady  fair 

We  should  not  magnify — 

She  treated  in  a  shameful  way 

Poor  Reginald  Horse  Fly — 

But  still,"  quoth  Daddy  Long  Legs 

As  he  heaved  a  gentle  sigh, 

*  We  can't,  as  self-respecting  bugs, 

Permit  her  thus  to  cry." 

At  that,  Ben  Beetle  and  the  boys 

Let  go  a  rousing  cheer, 

And  swarmed  around  the  wrecked  abode 

With  all  their  working  gear, 

And  tugged  and  hauled,  with  Ben  as  boss. 

And  fixed  the  house  up  fine — 

'Twas  fun  to  hear  him  bellow  out: 

'Pull  taut  that  slack  guy  line!" 

And  so,  her  home  once  more  restored, 

She  thanked  them  with  a  smile, 

And  then  retired  to  take  a  nap 

And  rest  herself  a-while; 

And,  as  she  pulled  the  blankets  back 

And  folded  up  the  spread, 

She  thought  about  those  coals  of  fire 

Heaped  gently  on  her  head. 

[14] 


I 


s 


s^ 


^^m 


Grandma  Frog 

No  doubt  Old  Doctor  Long  Legs 
Is  a  very  learned  leech, 
But,  somehow,  he  confuses  us 
With  all  his  Latin  speech, 
So  out  here  in  the  garden 
When  our  systems  we  befog, 
Instead  of  taking  his  black  pills, 
We  call  on  Grandma  Frog. 

She  dwells  beneath  a  toadstool 
In  a  manner  quite  superb. 
And,  hanging  from  the  rafters, 
Is  most  every  kind  of  herb; 
Likewise  long  strings  of  onions  dry, 
All  dangling  by  their  necks. 
Make  faces  up  and  slyly  grin 
While  she  hunts  for  her  specs. 

[15] 


"ilfca^t^ 


0 


"Hold  out  your  tongue," she  loudly  bawls, 

And  wisely  shakes  her  head, 
"It's  white  as  any  Turkish  towel, 

You'd  best  be  tucked  in  bed; 

There's  lots  of  fever  round  this  Spring, 

Your  skin  feels  like  a  stove; 

I'll  brew  a  potent  sleeping  draught 

Of  peppermint  and  clove. 

"Bathe  all  your  feet  in  water  hot, 
And  soak  your  hind  legs  too, 
This  thimble  full  be  sure  to  take 
Of  sparkling  honey  dew; 
Should  sneezing  fits  disturb  your  sleep, 
Or  dryness  of  the  throat, 
Repeat  the  dose  in  half  an  hour, 
Sweet  slumber  to  promote." 

Such  simple  remedies  as  these 

The  worthy  dame  prescribes, 

And  gives  to  each,  quite  free  of  charge. 

Much  sage  advice  besides; 

We  one  and  all,  both  great  and  small, 

From  Bug  to  PoUywog, 

Extol  the  skill  and  wisdom  rare 

Of  dear  old  Grandma  Frog. 

[16] 


5^ 


ges^jiLC^ 


I 


Bill  Bull-Frog,  the  baritone  singer, 
Has  a  voice  of  unqualified  power; 
He  sits  on  a  stump  in  the  rushes 
And  warbles  away  by  the  hour; 
I  overheard  one  of  his  ditties, 
And  think  you  will  each  one  agree 
That  the  sentiments  are  most  exquisite, 
Though  croaked  in  a  sad  minor  key: 

'There  once  was  a  pink  Arethusa, 
Who  used  to  live  down  by  the  pond, 
And,  also  a  foolish  young  Tad-pole, 
Of  whom  she  became  very  fond; 
She  loved  him  just  like  a  young  brother, 
And  often  would  give  him  advice 
Pertaining  to  proper  deportment, 
In  terms  that  were  crisp  and  concise. 

[17] 


ffl 


I 


^ 


©>^ 


spring-time  Spats 

Mosquitoes  have  the  tenderest  note— 
There's  something  in  their  song 
That  moves  us  all  unconsciously 
To  search  both  hard  and  long; 
One  chanted  softly  in  my  ear, 
As  I  was  waking  up, 
Of  how  our  Pussy  Willows  small 
Scared  Gardiner  Brown's  young  pup. 

They  saw  him  ambling  down  the  walk. 
And  started  to  emit 
The  most  blood-curdling  caterwauls. 
And  yowl  and  hiss  and  spit; 
At  once  his  feverish  little  tail 
Stopped  wagging  'round  about, 
He  stood  with  one  paw  in  the  air, 
A  prey  to  fear  and  doubt 

[21] 


And,  looking  'round  for  all  the  noise, 
He  paused  a  while  to  scan 
Those  Pussies  sitting  in  a  row. 
Then  round  the  bush  he  ran, 
And  lifting  up  his  puppy  voice, 
In  high  falsetto  key. 
He  started  in  to  bark  and  yelp 
As  loudly  as  could  be. 

This  racket  brought  out  Grandma  Frog, 

\A/'ho  sized  the  matter  up, 

And,  with  a  stern  look  in  her  eye. 

She  thus  addressed  the  pup — 

'Come,  pray  perk  up,  and  wipe  your  chin. 

And  take  a  grip  on  life; 

It  is  not  nice  to  ram  around 

And  be  in  constant  strife. 


I 


Come  here,  young  man,  and  make  less  noise, 

And  in  the  corner  stand. 

While  I  dispense  cold  logic, 

And  your  reasoning  reprimand. 

It  does  no  good  to  bark  and  bite, 

Or  your  new  jacket  rend. 

Just  stand  right  still  and  think  no  ill, 

And  joyous  thought  waves  send." 

[22] 


The  Squash  Bug's  Lament 

The  frost  is  on  the  pumpkin, 

And  I  don't  feel  very  spry, 

But  just  sit  'round,  with  mittens  on. 

And  wish  it  were  July. 

If  but  some  kind  fairy 

Would  this  cold  spell  transform. 

Back  to  the  good  old  Summer-time 

When  it  was  nice  and  warm. 

Those  days  of  sun  and  gladness. 

And  those  velvet  nights  of  heat. 

When  I  would  light  my  corn-cob  pipe 

And  find  an  easy  seat. 

And  watch  the  fire-flies'  twinkling  dance 

And  hear  the  Katydids, 

Or  listen  to  the  squawking 

Of  those  sassy  Bull-Frog  kids. 

[23] 


^^ 


I 


Then  later,  when  the  moon  came  up 
And  shed  her  silvery  light, 
'Twas  fun  to  watch  Bob-Rose  Bug 
With  his  breeches  cut  so  tight. 
And  see  him  thread  his  lonely  way 
Straight  down  the  garden  w^k, 
In  evening  clothes,  with  stately  pose. 
And  shirt  as  white  as  chalk. 

From  early  morn  till  late  at  night. 

It  was  one  round  of  fun, 

As,  in  and  out  between  the  vines, 

We'd  frisk  about  and  run; 

We  kept  Old  Brown,  the  gardener, 

In  one  continual  fuss; 

No  matter  how  he  hunted  'round 

He  never  could  catch  us. 

That's  why  I  want  a  fairy. 

And  I  want  her  mighty  quick, 

To  move  up  the  equator, 

For  I'm  feeling  cold  and  sick, 

As  here  I  sit  all  frizzled  up, 

A  prey  to  frost  and  blues. 

With  cap  pulled  down  my  cars  to  shield. 

And  feet  in  overshoes. 


[24] 


z& 


^^3^ 


It  Can't  Be  True 

Miss  Susan  Sparrow  loves  to  talk 

And  make  no  end  of  chatter, 

She's  driven  off  the  other  birds, 

With  all  her  noisy  clatter; 

And  now  she's  tattling  round  the  town, 

With  unbecoming  noise. 

About  old  Sidney  Night-hawk 

And  those  pious  Titmouse  boys. 

To  say  the  saintly  Titmouse  twins, 
Who  are  their  Mother's  pets, 
Would  ever  sneak  behind  the  barn 
And  smoke  up  cigarettes- 
Is  far  too  big  a  story 
For  my  feeble  mind  to  grip. 
And  well  I  know  it  is  not  so 
Or  they  would  have  the  pip. 

[25] 


^ 


I 


Why,  they  are  models  of  the  place, 

And  dote  on  one  another, 

It's  such  a  gratifying  sight 

The  way  they  mind  their  Mother; 

Now  if  it  was  that  Bullfinch  child. 

Who  does  his  toys  destroy, 

I  might  believe  Miss  Sparrow's  tale, 

For  he's  a  naughty  boy. 

And  as  for  poor  old  Sidney, 
With  his  wild  and  hawky  ways, 
He's  simply  twisted  'round  a  bit, 
And  thinks  the  nights  are  days; 
For,  ever  since  his  childhood 
When  he  suffered  from  a  dull, 
Each  time  he  bursts  out  into  song. 
His  voice  sounds  harsh  and  shrill. 

So  I  advise  you,  Susan  dear. 

To  use  a  little  care. 

If  Mrs.  Titmouse  hears  such  talk, 

Look — out — for — your — back — hair! 

Why  can't  you  bite  your  tongue  real  hard. 

And  let  your  neighbors  rest. 

And  take  a  cheerful  view  of  life 

As  you  sit  on  the  nest? 

[26] 


5g 


ig*.i 


Ben  Beetle 

'His  bedroom  faces  to  the  south 
And  has  a  pleasant  view, 
A  high  post  bed  with  snowy  spread 
And  curtains  of  old  blue." 


Ben  Beetle 

Ben  Beetle  does  not  mind  the  rain, 
For,  when  the  east  winds  blow, 
And  Spring-time  floods  make  little  pools 
Our  yard  to  overflow- 
He  lights  a  fire  in  his  small  cave. 
And  sits  all  snug  and  warm, 
And  loudly  laughs  whene'er  he  hears 
The  whistling  of  the  storm. 

Sometimes  hell  dance  a  sprightly  jig 
Or  lively  bug-song  roar. 
For  Ben  has  such  a  charming  way 
Of  capering  'round  the  floor; 
Or  else  he'll  put  the  kettle  on 
And  drink  six  cups  of  tea. 
And  play  upon  an  old  Jew's  harp 
Or  eat  prodigiously. 

[29] 


I 


^ 


He  also  washes  all  his  clothes, 
And,  when  they're  clean  and  wrung, 
They're  fastened  up  with  brier  thorns, 
And  on  a  cob- web  hung; 
It  thrills  one's  blood  to  see  him  stand 
Quite  nimbly  on  his  head, 
And,  while  in  this  inverted  state. 
Both  socks  and  jacket  shed. 

He  has  been  known  to  stir  himself 

And  rise  before  the  dawn. 

His  working  pantaloons  to  mend 

Where  they  were  ripped  and  torn; 

Once,  all  the  cloth  that  he  could  find 

Was  flannel  colored  red. 

And  this  he  stitched  into  the  hole 

With  good  stout  linen  thread. 

His  bedroom  faces  to  the  south. 

And  has  a  pleasant  view, 

A  high  post-bed  with  snowy  spread 

And  curtains  of  old  blue; 

He  tucks  the  blankets  round  his  neck 

And  underneath  his  chin. 

And  snores  quite  softly  in  his  sleep 

With  most  complacent  grin. 

[30] 


^ 


^giii 


BJ^ 


The  Picnic 

The  great  event  of  all  the  year 
Came  off  the  other  day, 
And  all  the  little  garden  folk 
Had  one  long  feast  of  play. 
The  annual  basket  picnic 
Of  the  Lady  Beetle's  Club, 
\A/'as  held  with  ardent  gusto 
In  a  large  hydrangea  tub. 

Miss  Angelina  Katydid 

Took  charge  of  the  cuisine, 

And  wore  a  charming  one-piece  gown 

Of  modest  apple  green; 

W^hile  little  Tessie  Tumble-bug 

In  sailor  hat  and  shirt, 

Brought  sandwiches  of  lettuce  crisp 

And  rose  leaves  for  dessert. 

[31] 


^li 


0 


1 


The  members  of  the  Choral  Club 

Played  off  a  game  of  ball, 

With  field  sports  in  the  afternoon 

Which  were  the  best  of  all; 

I  loved  to  see  Chick  Cricket  jump, 

And  with  such  sprightly  grace 

Go  humping  'round  that  mossy  tub 

And  win  the  hurdle  race. 

Ben  Beetle  in  the  tug-of-war 
Won  luster  and  renown, 
He  tugged  with  such  tenacity, 
The  other  team  fell  down; 
And  yelling  orders  to  his  mates 
Their  courage  to  sustain, 
Pugnaciously  he  gripped  that  rope 
And  heaved  with  might  and  main. 

No  wonder  with  such  sport  as  this. 

The  time  just  simply  flew. 

And  twilight  stole  around  that  tub 

Before  the  games  were  through; 

So  scrambling  o'er  the  mossy  rim 

With  manner  most  polite. 

They  scampered  to  their  tiny  homes 

And  chirped  each  one  "Good  night" 

[32] 


^A 


^a^^ 


A 


Stop  Thief! 


Ben  Beetle  is  a  splendid  chap 
And  seldom  brawls  or  fights, 
But,  when  it  comes  to  being  robbed, 
He  stands  up  for  his  rights; 
This  morning  he  ran  down  the  path. 
With  rage  his  face  was  red, 
And,  clutching  wildly  at  the  air. 
He  stopped  me  still  and  said: 

'Sing  a  song  of  battle, 
And  pry  me  up  a  brick. 
Before  I  am  confused  in  speech. 
And  mix  my  rhetoric; 
I  journeyed  o'er  the  garden  wall. 
Entirely  for  my  health. 
And  now  they  take  my  property. 
And  sneak  it  off  by  stealth. 

[33] 


I 


ss 


'For  some  one  cut  my  clothes  line  off, 

And  lugged  it  clean  away, 

That's  why  I  stand  here  on  one  foot, 

And  sing  this  roundelay; 

You  cannot  blame  me,  gentle  sir. 

For  sputtering  thus  with  fury, 

I'll  have  this  rogue  convicted  yet. 

Before  a  judge  and  jury. 

■*I  hear  Uriah  Cinch  Bug 
Has  a  very  strange  disease. 
And  saunters  off  with  odds  and  ends 
Of  everything  he  sees; 
Now,  maybe,  that  low-minded  scamp 
Might  think  the  idea  fine, 
To  manufacture  gallowses 
From  my  brand  new  clothes-line. 

"If  that's  a  fact,  and  can  be  proved, 
I  will  myself  regale 
By  pulling  on  my  overalls, 
And  camping  on  his  trail; 
The  neighborhood  is  all  stirred  up. 
And  will  sigh  with  relief 
When  I,  by  shrewd  detective  work. 
Trail  down  this  foxy  thief" 

[34j 


^A 


(g3'ltf^®i5^=» 


m!S>J^i^ 


The  Man  With  the  Hoe 

"Well,  now  she's  hired  Old  Joseph  Crow 
To  keep  the  flower  beds  neat, 
And  he's  been  grumbling  at  the  job, 
And  used  up  by  the  heat." 


^J^ 


The  Man  With  the  Hoe 

I  think  Miss  Katie  Cochin 

Is  an  out  and  out  old  fuss, 

The  way  she  bosses  round  the  boys 

Is  really  scandalous; 

Why  did  she  run  about  and  squawk, 

And  chase  and  try  to  catch 

Sid  Rabbit  and  his  brother  Sam 

In  her  back  garden  patch? 

No  doubt  those  naughty  little  boys 
Went  hopping  all  around, 
And  peered  into  the  tool-house  dark 
To  see  what  could  be  found, 
And  ate  prodigiously  of  peas, 
And  curly  lettuce  green, 
And  also  beets  and  radishes, 
And  made  an  awful  scene. 

[37] 


I 


a 


Sje 


Well,  now  she's  hired  old  Joseph  Crow 

To  keep  her  flower  beds  neat, 

And  he's  been  grumbling  at  the  job, 

And  used  up  by  the  heat, 

For  everything  the  garden  grows 

He  has  to  weed  by  hand, 

And  hoe  and  rake  from  morn  till  night, 

And  shovel  muck  and  sand. 

There,  also  is  the  servants'  hall 

To  furnish  day  by  day. 

And  they  demand  most  everything 

From  Brussels  sprouts  to  hay; 

The  butler  asks  for  egg-plant. 

The  coachman  dotes  on  beans. 

The  laundress  lives  on  mushrooms  raw, 

While  Joe  devours  sardines. 

For  so  much  time  is  spent  by  him 

In  serving  one  and  all. 

That,  when  the  dinner  bell  goes  clang. 

He's  far  too  tired  to  crawl; 

So,  sitting  on  the  cool,  green  grass. 

He  opens  up  a  can. 

And  with  these  dainty  little  fish 

Consoles  the  inner  man. 

[38] 


/ 


9lS 


Help!  Help! 


«( 


(( 


While  looking  in  the  undergrowth, 

I  saw,  to  my  surprise, 

A  small  and  spotted  Guinea  Pig, 

With  large  pathetic  eyes; 

Come,  be  a  good  Samaritan," 

The  poor  beast  called  to  me. 

For  I'm  torn  up  like  shredded  wheat, 

And  pine  for  toast  and  tea 

This  morn  I  went  off  fishing. 
In  the  glaring  sun  and  heat. 
And  toted,  in  a  basket  small, 
The  lunch  I  had  to  eat. 
And,  placing  it  beneath  a  tree 
Upon  the  river  bank, 
I  then  threw  out  my  hook  and  line, 
And  into  slumber  sank. 

[39] 


'I  dreamed  of  catching  monstrous  whales, 

And  lobsters  colored  red, 

And  thought  my  line  was  nothing 

But  a  piece  of  pink  silk  thread; 

When  suddenly,  I  heard  a  snort. 

And,  waking  with  a  start, 

I  saw  a  sight  that  made  me  ill. 

And  wrung  my  poor  old  heart. 

*For,  there,  upon  a  fallen  log. 

Proceeding  then  to  dine, 

Sat,  gravely  munching  on  my  lunch, 

A  pie- faced  Porcupine! 

*What  brand  of  nerve  food  do  you  take?' 

I  loudly  bawled  at  him; 

He  was  too  full  for  utterance 

And  could  but  faintly  grin. 

'So,  in  a  towering  rage  I  left, 

And  now  I  humbly  pray 

A  short-time  loan  of  sixteen  cents — 

This  large  sum  to  defray — 

The  cost  of  buying  in  great  haste, 

A  first-class  leather  gun, 

So  I  can  scare  that  greedy  beast. 

And  put  him  on  the  run." 

[40] 


Zk 


A  Vulgar  Fellow 

That  old  Uriah  Cinch  Bug 

Is  the  meanest  man  in  town, 

He  limps  around  the  garden 

In  a  ragged  dressing  gown, 

And  eats  the  stickum  off  from  stamps, 

And  swears  it  is  delicious. 

Although  I  never  liked  the  taste 

And  think  it's  not  nutritious. 

He  will  not  play  at  hopscotch, 

Or  be  friendly  with  the  boys. 

But,  goes  off  grumbling  by  himself, 

And  kicks  about  the  noise; 

He  chased  Chick  Cricket  off  the  lawn 

For  singing  sweet  and  low. 

And,  just  because  he  lingered  'round, 

He  smashed  his  small  banjo. 

[41] 


^ 


^^31 


[ 


He  never  sings  a  lively  song, 
Or  whistles  through  his  thumbs, 
But  searches  up  and  down  the  walk, 
For  cast-off  clothes  and  crumbs; 
One  day  he  stole  some  tiny  eggs 
From  two  defenseless  ants, 
And,  chuckling  like  a  squeaky  hinge. 
He  stowed  them  in  his  pants. 

The  villain  and  his  stolen  swag 
Kept  company  none  too  long. 
As,  bustling  down  the  narrow  walk, 
He  mingled  with  the  throng. 
For,  when  he  saw  an  opening  small. 
He  made  a  sudden  dash. 
And,  bumping  into  Mrs.  Snail, 
Went  sprawling  with  a  crash! 

Spoiled  were  those  eggs  so  round  and  rare, 
And  spoiled  his  breeches  too. 
His  pockets  filled  with  sticky  yolks. 
His  eyes  with  tearful  dew; 
So  let  us  leave  him  sitting  there- 
It  serves  him  right— you  know. 
Although  to  his  two  penny  soul 
It  is  a  bitter  blow. 


[42] 


3B9l3 


Hot  Times 

"The  modern  Ant  apartment  house, 
Down  by  the  garden  wall, 
Is  wrapt  in  flames  and  burning  up. 
And  soon  the  roof  will  fall." 


^ 


Hot  Times 

Clang!  Clang!  Dang!  Dang!  Why  what 

is  this? 
The  fire  department's  out. 
And  all  the  bugs  are  rushing  round 
With  feverish  noise  and  shout! 
The  modern  Ant  apartment  house, 
Down  by  the  garden  wall. 
Is  wrapt  in  flames,  and  burning  up, 
And  soon  the  roof  will  fall 

The  fire  was  started  by  the  twins, 
Who  found  a  parlor  match. 
And  thought  it  smart,  out  in  the  hall, 
To  give  it  one  big  scratch; 
And  now  the  fire  has  spread  upstairs 
And  fills  the  house  with  smoke. 
No  wonder  those  who  stagger  out, 
Sneeze  violently  and  choke. 

[45] 


^OSS 


But  here  the  hook  and  ladder  comes, 

My,  what  a  valiant  show — ! 

Just  see  them  pitch  out  chairs  and  beds 

And  yell— "Look  out  below!" 

A  dandelion  hose  is  laid 

Straight  from  the  dew-drop  pump — 

The  water  squirting  out  too  soon 

Hits  poor  Ben  Beetle  plump! 

The  firemen  work  with  might  and  main, 

And  soon  the  flames  subdue, 

Meanwhile  the  inmates  stand  around 

And  feel  cast-down  and  blue; 

No  longer  do  those  children  shout, 

With  faces  wreathed  in  grins, 

A  feeling's  born  on  me  real  strong, 

I'd  hate  to  be  those  twins. 

A  little  moral  to  this  tale, 

I  think  we'd  best  attach. 

And  warn  you  all,  both  great  and  small, 

To  never  light  a  match. 

For,  if  those  silly  little  twins 

Had  left  it  quite  alone. 

They  would  not  now  be  bathed  in  tears, 

Or  sob  so  hard,  and  moan. 

[46  J 


Tobias  Turtle,  wandering  round. 

Espied  a  huge  bee-hive 

All  swarming  over  with  the  beasts— 

The  thing  seemed  fair  alive — 

And,  crawling  bravely  on  a  rock. 

He  opened  the  attack 

By  smacking  that  old  lodging-house 

A  most  malicious  whack. 

Then  swiftly  drawing  down  his  head 

Inside  his  solid  shell. 

With  great  success  the  bees'  assault 

He  managed  to  repel, 

For,  as  they  massed  in  battle  line 

To  tackle  him  in  front. 

Their  stingers  sharp  would  strike  his  shell 

And  then  become  quite  blunt 

[47] 


I 


The  Queen-bee  buzzed  into  his  ear: 
"Why  cause  me  all  this  pain, 
And  wage  fierce  battle  with  my  troops, 
And  pillage  my  domain? 
You  are  a  deep-dyed  villain, 
And  a  low-down  profligate. 
To  come  against  us  and  make  war 
Incased  in  armour  plate, 

"If  you  insist  upon  a  row 
And  quarrel  with  my  clan, 
Why  don't  you  lay  aside  your  shell 
And  fight  us  like  a  man? 
For  then  the  contest  would  be  fair 
If  you  would  only  strip, 
But,  as  it  stands,  we  might  as  well 
Assail  a  battle-ship." 

"Why,  lady,  this  is  shocking!" 

Tobias  then  replied, 
"For  that  would  be  immodest. 

And  my  head  I'd  have  to  hide. 

To  take  off  this  brown  business  suit 

And  fight  in  underwear, 

The  very  thought  brings  on  cold  chills. 

It  gives  me  such  a  scare." 


[48] 


Z& 


©>^ 


If  Wishes  Were  Horses 

Mike  Mole,  who  digs  the  cellars, 
Is  complaining  of  his  lot, 
And  thinks  subway  construction 
Far  too  wearisome  and  hot; 
One  day  he  told  Pete  Chipmonk, 
That  if  he  could  have  his  say, 
The  program  of  his  waking  hours 
Would  be  fixed  up  this  way: 

"To  always  be  industrious 
And  never  soar  up  high. 
Has  stunted  my  ambition. 
And  at  times  I  sit  and  sigh : 
How  nice  'twould  be  to  ram  around, 
And  bump  my  head,  and  slug. 
And  buzz,  and  kick  up  monkey-shines. 
Just  like  a  glad  June  Bug. 

[49] 


mmi 


So  free  from  all  anxiety 

Is  this  sweet  creature's  life, 

He  is  not  on  the  firing  line, 

Or  fussed  with  business  strife, 

But,  in  one  constant  round  of  joy. 

And  with  abandoned  glee. 

He  bangs  himself  against  the  wall. 

Quite  happy,  gay  and  free. 

'He's  always  up  to  some  new  game. 
And  never  is  at  rest; 
A  heart  like  weathered  oak  must  beat 
Behind  his  manly  chest; 
Sometimes  he'll  hang  about  all  night, 
And  round  the  lawn  will  roam. 
And  often  has  to  sprint  real  hard 
To  beat  the  milkman  home. 

'I'd  rather  be  a  blade  like  this. 

And  never  have  a  cent. 

Than  be  obliged  to  pay  the  bills. 

And  save  up  for  the  rent. 

Oh!  that  I  need  not  sit  around, 

Like  some  fat,  sleepy  pug. 

But  could  dress  in  my  Sunday  pants 

And  be  a  gay  June  Bug." 

[SO] 


An  Animated  Pincushion 

'And  now  a  large  pincushion 
I  resemble  very  close, 
I've  lost  my  health  and  lost  my  way 
And  feel  sad  and  remorse." 


i 


An  Animated  Pincushion 

Poor  Danny  Dormouse  came  to  grief 
Down  by  the  garden  pool, 
And  at  his  plight  we  should  not  smile 
Or  laugh  in  ridicule; 
Ben  Beetle  found  him  on  the  path- 
It  gave  his  heart  a  throb— 
For,  out  of  the  soft  gloaming,  came 
His  large  heart-rending  sob! 

"Boo-hoo!"  the  little  sufferer  squeaked, 
"I'm  in  a  sorry  plight, 

I've  lost  my  way  on  this  dark  path. 

And  can't  win  home  to-night; 

This  afternoon  I  started  out 

To  fish  the  garden  pond, 

And  try  to  catch  some  minnows  small. 

Of  which  I'm  very  fond. 

[53] 


^ 


I 


At  first  my  luck  was  splendid, 
And  I  caught  them  fast  and  thick — 
Just  count  and  you'll  see  seventeen 
A-dangling  from  this  stick — 
And  then  a  bow-legged  Bumble-bee 
Stung  me  upon  the  tail, 
Because  I  called  out  names  at  him 
His  striped  pants  to  assail. 

"This  spoiled  my  taste  for  fishing, 
So,  reeling  in  my  line, 
I,  in  an  absent-minded  fit. 
Sat  on  a  Porcupine! 
My  system  then  received  a  shock 
It  never  will  get  o'er. 
As,  sick  with  pain  and  wild  with  fright, 
I  stormed  around  and  tore. 

"And  now  a  large  pincushion 
I  resemble  very  close, 
I've  lost  my  health  and  lost  my  way 
And  feel  sad  and  remorse." 
And  so  Ben  left  him  standing 
And  raced  for  help  to  town, 
As  it  was  not  good  policy 
For  Danny  to  sit  down. 

[54] 


-f  **  '  ^ 


We  dote  on  joyous  harmony, 
And  have  but  lately  hired 
That  baritone  Bill  Bull  Frog— 
W^hose  chords  are  so  admired— 
To  warble  to  us  late  at  night. 
And  lull  us  off  to  sleep, 
By  singing  of  the  bell  buoy's  boom, 
Or  cradles  in  the  deep. 

One  afternoon  a  song  arose 

And  floated  from  within, 

Tho'  afterwards  no  one  could  tell 

Just  when  it  did  begin: 

The  notes  increased  and  sailed  aloft 

High  o'er  the  garden  wall. 

So  full  of  mellow  harmony 

It  held  each  one  in  thralL 

[55] 


Bill  Bull  Frog  gasped  to  catch  his  breath, 

And,  beckoning  to  the  throng, 

He  said— "I  can  die  happy  now, 

Fve  heard  a  Locust's  song: 

I  float  about  as  in  a  dream, 

And  heave  a  gentle  sigh. 

And  think  of  lolly-pops  and  jam. 

Cold  college  ice,  and  pie. 

1  feel  like  doing  foolish  stunts. 

It  makes  me  light  and  gay. 

Like  riding  in  a  motor  car 

Along  the  Milky  Way; 

If  this  song  does  not  stop  quite  soon, 

I  will  my  new  coat  shed 

And  start  in  playing  at  leap-frog, 

Or  stand  upon  my  head." 

The  ballad  ceased,  that  o'er  them  all 

Had  cast  a  magic  spell. 

And  faintly  sank  to  nothing. 

Like  the  echo  from  a  bell; 

I  really  can't  express  to  you. 

Or  to  your  minds  impart. 

The  beauty  of  this  tender  song. 

That  swelled  Bill  Bull  Frog's  heart 

[56] 


I 


^A 


^eB^ 


i 


4 


^ 

©.^ 


Checkerberry  Chick 

Away  down  by  the  garden  wall, 

As  busy  as  a  bee, 

Dwells,  with  her  brood  of  seven  kids, 

The  Widow  Chickadee; 

Now  six  of  these  sweet  children 

Are  always  clean  and  slick; 

The  other—well  I'll  tell  you 

Of  this  Checkerberry  Chick. 

To  start  with,  he's  the  only  son. 

The  other  six  are  girls. 

That's  why  they're  always  perked  up  fine 

And  wear  their  tails  in  curls ; 

But  Chick  goes  round  in  rompers  gray. 

With  patches  on  the  seat. 

And  sometimes  kicks  his  sandals  off 

To  paddle  in  bare  feet. 

[57] 


^ 


i 


He  tracks  mud  on  the  green  moss  rugs, 

And  bangs  the  outside  door, 

And  when  they  have  iced  bug  for  lunch 

He  always  asks  for  more; 

Sometimes  he  turns  fine  somersaults. 

And  upside  down  he  whirls. 

Or  else  hangs  round  the  playhouse  small 

To  tease  the  little  girls. 

He's  always  in  the  best  of  health, 
His  spirits  seldom  droop, 
And  never  has  to  go  to  bed 
With  chicken-pox  or  croup; 
But,  shortly  after  break  of  day. 
If  you  will  look  real  hard. 
You'll  see  him  gaily  skipping  round 
Out  there  across  the  yard. 

His  mother  dreams  of  little  Chick, 

And  has  thought  out  a  plan 

Of  what  great  things  he's  going  to  do 

When  he  becomes  a  man. 

She  thinks  her  offspring's  intellect 

Is  really  something  weird. 

And  to  the  hearts  of  one  and  all 

He  has  himself  endeared. 


[58] 


t1M| ,  \ 


BiU  Bull  Frog's  Boom 

"When  I  was  young  and  in  my  prime 
I  taught  a  Shiner  school, 
And  sat,  sedately  dignified 
Upon  a  high  toad-stool." 


I 


Bill  Bull  Frog's  Boom 

Bill  Bull  Frog  boomed  out  blatantly 

Upon  a  light  guitar, 

And  hoarsely  croaked  out  in  the  fog 

A  song  most  singular; 

Ben  Beetle  heard  his  sad  lament, 

As  he  lay  tucked  in  bed, 

And  sniffed  quite  sympathetically, 

For  this  is  what  he  said: 

*When  I  was  young  and  in  my  prime 
I  taught  a  Shiner  school, 
And  sat  sedately  dignified, 
Upon  a  high  toad-stool; 
Fin  Pickerel  was  the  brightest  child, 
And  always  could  contrive 
By  wiggling  hard  and  thinking  long 
To  count  straight  up  to  five. 

[61] 


I 


sg 


0 


lit 


But  young  Dick  Dace  distracted  me, 
He  was  a  stupid  dunce, 
Nor,  can  I  ever  quite  forgive 
The  way  he  fooled  me  once, 
Because  I  had  chastised  the  cub 
For  being  two  hours  late. 
He  flopped  down  in  a  sulky  rage 
And  wrote  upon  his  slate: 

You  cannot  drive  a  great  big  nail 

With  sponges,  (so  'tis  writ), 

No  matter  how  you  bat  away 

Or  stubbornly  soak  it;' 

Now,  I've  been  wondering  ever  since, 

Each  time  I  take  a  plunge. 

If  that  young  brat  meant  to  convey 

That  I  looked  like  a  sponge! 

'A  band  of  hungry  ducks  swam  round 

And  ate  my  Shiner  class. 

And  I  was  left  without  a  job, 

Alack!  Also  alas! 

How  often  is  it  in  this  life 

Things  start  so  bright  and  fair. 

And  then  the  house  of  cards  falls  down 

And  leaves  one  in  despair! " 


[62] 


15^^ 


A  Desperate  Case 

Amongst  the  creatures  large  and  small, 

That  in  the  Garden  dwell, 

Old  Doctor  Long  Legs  has  repute 

For  making  sick  folks  well; 

He  deals  with  coughs  and  sudden  chills, 

With  sprains  and  colic  too, 

And  uses  poultices  and  pills, 

And  doses  of  fresh  dew. 

One  evening  there  came  to  the  lawn 
A  lady-bug  named  Jane, 
And  of  her  quilted  petticoat 
She  seemed  to  be  quite  vain: 
She  said,  "Dear  Doctor  I  have  heard 
That  you  were  in  this  section. 
And  came  to  ask  you  for  advice 
Concerning  my  complexion. 

[63] 


'«***W^MMn* 


For  I  have  noticed  lately, 

There  has  been  a  sudden  change, 

And  I  am  peeling  off  in  spots, 

And  look  so  sad  and  strange; 

So,  from  your  store  of  wisdom  deep. 

Some  remedy  now  pluck. 

If  you  restore  my  beauty  rare, 

I'll  think  you  are  a  duck." 

The  Doctor  studied  long  and  hard, 
And  rubbed  his  lofty  brow. 
Then,  when  the  case  was  diagnosed. 
He  made  a  formal  bow; 
Said  he:  "My  gentle  creature, 
If  you  will  but  wash  your  face, 
I'm  sure  it  would  like  magic  work, 
Your  beauty  to  replace." 

Pray  treasure  up  these  golden  words, 

Against  a  rainy  day. 

And  let  not  their  significance 

From  your  mind  ever  stray, 

Where  e'er  through  life's  dark  wilderness 

You  stumble  on,  and  grope, 

Remember  when  you  are  in  doubt, 

The  Water-pail  and  Soap! 

[64] 


/ 


Z^ 


^sg^ 


To  You 


And  so  within  the  Garden  Wall 
The  little  world  goes  on, 
Through  building  and  through 
nesting  time, 
With  buzz  and  hum  and  song. 

Nor  need  you  search  for  magic 
At  the  rainbow^'s  shining  end, 
Nor  pray  that  tinkling  fairy  charms 
Their  mystic  help  may  lend. 

Just  watch  the  busy  garden  life 
Behind  the  old  gray  w^all. 
And,  if  there's  hoping  in  your  eyes, 
The  veil  w^ill  from,  them  fall. 


[65] 


/ 


so  STANDS  THE  RECORD  OF  LIFE  WITH- 
IN THE  WALL-FOR  THE  LAUGHTER  OF 
LITTLE  CHILDREN  AND  THE  GENTLING 
OF  US  ALL.  PUBLISHED  BY  PAUL  ELDER 
&  COMPANY  AT  THEIR  TOMOYE  PRESS 
IN  THE  CITY  OF  SAN  FRANCISCO  AND 
SEEN  THROUGH  THE  PRESS  BY  JOHN 
SWART  IN  THE  MONTH  OF  JUNE  &  THE 
YEAR  NINETEEN  HUNDRED  &  THIRTEEN 


YD   UJ4^/ 


wKm 


"«».. 


e^ 


.'•ill 


llluiA. 


